


Night Sky And Wandering Eyes

by Claudia_bm



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claudia_bm/pseuds/Claudia_bm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian's been expecting this night so often that he doesn't dread it anymore. He has a routine set up now. That helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Sky And Wandering Eyes

Imagine Dorian wandering around the city at night. Work finished hours ago, and yet he still hasn’t come home. He isn’t even walking in the general direction of home. The city is filled with people, but it isn’t hard to find an empty corner or a deserted street. It is cold. The kind of cold that is both biting and clammy. The smoke that Dorian breaths out touches his face with a warm caress before dissolving away into the air. It’s dark, but not dark. The black sky is lit up by a thousand artificial light, no star in sight. He doesn’t know where he’s going, just keeps moving forward and forward. His legs, ironically, bring him to a small bar that’s actually famous for having high-class escorts frequent. Dorian glances down at his watch. 9.27. Too early to go home.

Without hesitation, he walks in.

He stumbles out of the place about an hour later. Four shots of whiskey drunker and one orgasm emptier. The guy wasn’t bad. Dorian got off, after all. He rubs his hand against the fabric of his jeans, irritated by the itchiness of the crescent indents that his fingernails have left on his palms. The sheet was probably too thin.

He should go home. Not because he wants to, but he doesn't even possess the mood to do anything else.

Dorian knows he shouldn’t be walking around when it’s dark, especially when he’s not completely sober. He doesn’t care. He likes it like this. Quieter. Dead. The only sound he can hear reverberates from restaurants and bars from far away. An occasional car passes by. Some young kids laugh as they walk pass.

He gets sober with every step, the cold helps. He touches the key in his pocket and idly wonders what he will do when he gets home. Shower, definitely. The displeasure between his legs is making itself known with every step. Then maybe food, if he still has anything left. Dorian wrinkles his nose in annoyance when he remembers the little cakes in the fridge. He may just throw them away.

Dorian stops short.

Someone is sitting on his front steps. This isn’t a common occurrence. The landlady doesn’t like homeless people in front of her house. She will most surely invite them in if she spots them. The person doesn’t notice Dorian. He is staring down at the phone held in his palms. There is a cup next to him, so maybe Wynne knows there is a person outside her house after all. Why doesn’t she...

It’s made clear when the person looks up.

Miroslav sees Dorian and a smile blossoms on his lips. He still manages to look good with chapped lips, Dorian notes bitterly. The man stands up, wobbles a little when he does so. He has probably been sitting still for too long. Miroslav slips the phone into the pocket of his long coat and walks in long strides toward Dorian.

Dorian is rooted where he is, too confused to think about running.

“There you are.” Miroslav says. “I’m so glad I manage to catch you before the day’s over.”

“What are you doing here?” Dorian asks, dumbstruck.

Miroslav seems taken aback at Dorian’s question. He regains his composure quickly, however, just like always. Without missing a beat, he adds with another smile. “Waiting for you, of course. How was the party?” He sticks his tongue out. “I’m a bit sad that I miss it. But crowd really isn’t my thing.”

“So you just sit here and wait since... Maker knows when?” Dorian blinks.

“It hadn’t been that long, really.” Miroslav says in a tone that suggests otherwise. “And your landlady is very nice. She keeps bringing me food and hot choco even though I’ve said it wasn’t necessary. I’m a little embarrassed to have bothered her.”

Miroslav chuckles bashfully. His face turns a little pink but Dorian doesn’t know if it’s because of the embarrassment or the cold. Now that the adrenaline has run its course, Dorian’s wariness comes crashing back full force.

“Look. I’m really tired. What’s so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow?” He says.

“Oh, this. Of course. Wait here.” Miroslav trots back towards the house. He runs up the steps and looks around before bending down to pick up something in front of the door. When he comes running back, Dorian sees that it’s a box, nicely wrapped. The wrapping paper has little dragons on it, or maybe they’re dinosaurs. It’s a little late and Dorian’s a little tired.

“Here.” Miroslav says, giving it to Dorian. “This can’t wait until tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Dorian.”

Dorian is lost for words.

“I took the liberty with the wrapping paper, but I swear the content serious.” Miroslav says when Dorian doesn’t take it, mistakenly assumes that Dorian thinks it’s a joke. Dorian doesn’t. Miroslav is always serious when it comes to things like this. He’s always serious all the time, really, if Sera isn’t around. Dorian realises he’s shaking. He’s not the only one who’s noticed.

“Dorian? Whoa. Dorian.”

It hurts. But the pain is not foreign. Dorian clutches at his chest. “Why?” He asks, and he sounds accusing. “Why?”

Miroslav hesitates. Dorian wonders if he is contemplating running away. Honestly, it’s the only sensible action in this scenario. Miroslav doesn’t. He takes Dorian’s hand, and put in around the box.

“Because I like to see you smile.”

“Honestly, after the first two hours or so, I thought I should just leave the box and go home. After all, it doesn’t make a different whether I’m here or not. But I want to give it to you, in person. I like you, Dorian.”

“Well I... didn’t expect that.” Dorian says. And Miroslav smiles. The smile is gentle, and sad.

“How could you? If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s hiding. I know you’re not looking for anyone, nor do you want to be with anyone. So I held my tongue.”

“So why now?”

Miroslav blushes, but he takes a deep breath and replies. Dorian has a feeling he has practiced saying this. It brings him a small satisfaction.

“It’s a birthday present, of sort. I know many people adore you, but I still think it’s a... good idea? Why did I think this was a good idea?” Miroslav looks horrified at himself. His eyes, though, were wide and honest. He looks vulnerable like that, fumbling with words. “I probably didn’t. I brought a present in case you didn’t want it. But the idea is... if this is uncalled for, I’ll take it back. Just say the word.”

Miroslav takes his hand away from the box in favour of slapping it against his cheek in frustration with himself. The sudden movement makes the box tilt and Dorian barely keeps it from falling to the ground in time. Seeing Dorian’s struggle with the box, Miroslav’s hand leaves his face as he tries to help stabling it. It isn't their most graceful moment. They end up holding it between them. Dorian can faintly feel the edge digging into his jacket.

“It’s not unwanted.” Dorian manages, after a while. What he wants to say is, you’re not unwanted. But he isn’t ready to voice that out loud.

“Yeah?” Miroslav sounds hopeful.

“Yeah.” Dorian replies. Not quite sure of what to do next. After all, what does one do after being effectively handed a heart on a silver tray? Dorian’s supposed to be smoother than this. He blames the alcohol. But after all these years, he suddenly wants to believe in the miracle of birthday wishes again, even if it’ll turn out to be just another childish fantasy in the end.

He should invite Miroslav in. He doesn’t want to go in.

“Want to come to my place?” Miroslav offers. “It’s not too far.”

Dorian nods, wonders how this man can read him so well.

“Come on then.” Miroslav reaches out and takes Dorian’s hand in his. Dorian curls his fingers around the man’s, and let himself be led away.

Dorian doesn’t receive his first kiss from Miroslav until the day after his birthday. He's okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> If you see a different version of this floating about on tumblr, it's mine too. Apparently when I'm drunk I do stuff to annoy myself later


End file.
